The silence that followed Dinny’s address to the dead was broken by an impatient ejaculation from Bart.
“Come on!” he said. “Do you take me for a fool? Lift, man, or I’ll do it myself!”
Thus adjured, Dinny went once more to the foot of the shallow trench, and stooped down.
“Now, then, together!” said Bart. “The dead can’t hurt the quick.”
Dinny thrust his hands down in the sand on either side of the rolled-up canvas, made as if to lift, and then, as his hands met, he uttered another yell and fell upon his knees.
Bart started away as well, and stood in the dim light, trembling.
“There! Didn’t you fale him move?” whispered Dinny, who was shaking violently. “Captin darlin’, we were only obeying ordhers. Sure, and we wouldn’t disthurb ye for all the world if ye didn’t want to come. Don’t be angry wid us—it was ordhers, ye know; and av coorse ye know what ordhers is.”
“Did—did you feel it too, Dinny?” said Bart, hoarsely.
“Did I fale it! Sure, and he worked his toes again, and then give a bigger kick than ever!”
“Dinny,” cried Bart, passionately, “the poor fellow has been buried alive!”